Hushed
by I Spaz With Pizzazz
Summary: The ever-present smile answered, pleased with itself. "Honey, it isn't that hard to escape from Arkham." Then, with a slightly suggestive edge, the Joker added, "And besides, I missed you." -Batsy/Joker Slash-
1. xo, Joker

**A/N: **After much fangirling and much horror when I realized that there were not enough fanfics about these two, I decided to pause my obsessive compulsive Naruto fandom-ness for a moment. :D But I mean really, how can you ignore such a perfect couple...? So ta-da! I don't know how many chapters it will be, but this story has infected my head. Enjoy, my pretties! X3

Disclaimer: I own nothing. But if I did… -faints from the possibilities-

--

Hushed

-one-

Evening air, sweet with thick tension, rustled the letter folded in Bruce Wayne's hand. He'd read it several times already, wishing that it might go up in flames if he stared at it with loathing long enough. The messy writing was enough to recognize who it was from even without the signature added at the bottom.

_Batsy, Batsy, Batsy… _

_Really now, how are you? It's not the same without me, is it…?_

_You wish I was still around, don't you, Batsy? Now, now. Stop pretending, won't you? I can tell. It's no _fun _without any laughter._

_Well, here's an interesting tidbit for you, sweetie. It might just make your day, Batsy. By now I think you know me well enough that you can tell I hate being stuck in one place for too long, hm?_

_Guess what, Batsy?_

_When I don't like somewhere, you can't stop me from leaving._

_Surprise! I'm back, Batsy-poo._

_So come find me._

_Xo,_

_Joker._

Attached had been his infamous playing card and an address to an old factory far away from the heart of the city. It was falling apart, the roof caving in. Bruce stood alone outside it, shivering once with nerves. He didn't want to know how that letter had found him so easily. More importantly, he didn't want to know how the Joker had escaped high security even while being in a straight jacket. Mostly though, why the hell was he actually feeling sort of…_excited _that he was seeing him?

Drawing his cape around himself to guard against the wind, he glanced warily around. Even though the Joker had miraculously found his mailbox, he didn't feel comfortable without all of the weapons and protection tucked away inside Batman's suit.

On his way there, he had come to the conclusion that he might have to kill the Clown Prince if it was a trap of some sort.

Still, he wasn't sure if he had it in him.

Somewhere along the line he'd started feeling a sick enjoyment out of the pursuit. Maybe it was all of the things the Joker kept saying to him, things like "You complete me."

Every time he put on the mask, he started feeling a little too comfortable. He started understanding, he thought, what he'd meant by that comment. Inside it he had a purpose, finally. But Bruce could only truly find it around _him. _Not the petty, simple criminals, only around _him. _And he didn't know if it was because the Joker was a challenge or some other thing about him…

Shivering again, trying to bring himself out of his nervous corner, he closed his eyes tightly for a second. He shouldn't have done that, because as soon as he did, a shrill "Boo!" from the darkness rocked him with surprise. _Shit!_

A familiar chuckle seeped out from the throat of a man who seemed to melt out of the dark and into view. Bruce felt his body tense. It was surreal seeing him again. Had those few months away from him been false security after all? Was Gotham going to shudder with explosions and gunfire once again?

"Miss me, Batsy?" His voice was coated with an overly sweet grin. The scarred cheeks twisted into a wide smile as he held up a purple gloved hand and waved cheerfully. "Ooh, strong and silent as always, aren't you…? Awh. I was hoping for a bigger reaction…"

His brain said kill him. That's what he should have done, if he was a proper protector of that beautiful city. Justice, right? The Joker was definitely crazy, but he sure as hell knew what he was doing. The courts couldn't seem to quite get that through their heads.

_Kill him, god damn it!_

But he didn't. He just stood there recoiling after a moment of shock. Caught off guard, Bruce forgot to change his voice to fit the costume. "How did you get out?"

"Hee! Having an identity crisis, are we?" Joker giggled, eyes bright as they stared steadily. Those eyes could see right through him. "Please, pick one. Go ahead, be Bruce Wayne, petty boy and billionaire if you care to. It, ah, it's not like I don't know. Remember at the festive little trust fund party for poor Harvey Dent, Batsy? And the, ah, _girl…?"_

He winced. Rachel…

"Aha, of course we remember!" The Joker nodded, happy to have struck a vein. "Well, who else would have been so eager to save the pretty thing but you, hm? Yeah…sorry Batsy, I don't forget much…"

Damn it. Rachel. Just another reason why he should have killed him during the game he played with the ferries.

But he _didn't._

The truth was, he was almost _happy _to see him again. Like he had something to fight again.

To fight…for?

"How did you get out?" Bruce found his tongue and asked again, not bothering to replace Batman's deep, intimidating tone. There wasn't much of a point now anyway. He couldn't hide anything now.

The ever-present smile answered, pleased with itself. "Honey, it isn't that hard to escape from Arkham." Then, with a slightly suggestive edge, the Joker added, "And besides, I missed you." He pulled a knife from his pocket and absently twirled it around his fingers.

Bruce watched the blade carefully, unsure. "Missed me?" Hearing that brought a sudden glow to his face. A glow he most certainly did not want there. It didn't belong there, especially not because of something that fucking _monster _was telling him.

"Mhm…" Now his gaze changed to look at something far away, like a memory he wished he could change to more fit his liking. "I thought about you, Batsy. About why I couldn't change you into a person like me, buy Harvey came so easily… And why you can't stop being so nice all the time. Urk, you're like a teacher's pet, Batsy! Ha…! A pet bat…!"

He bit his lip. All he wanted to do was go home and see Alfred and go to sleep and forget he ever had to deal with this freak, this clown freak that would never leave him alone. "Get to the point, would you? I'm really not in the mood."

"Testy tonight?" The Joker frowned some. "Well, fine. I will, if it will make you happy. But only 'cause I'm actually feeling nice tonight, too. I mean, it's not every day you break out of an asylum and get to see your favourite bat, is it?"

"The point, I said!"

The grin came back. "Oh, you're actually very adorable when you get angry. Like a spoiled kid stomping his foot, hm? Ahhh, that's right. Batsy _is _a spoiled kid." He continued to play with his knife as he finally went on. "I know I won't corrupt you that way. Also, that's why I like you…that's why I think you're so…ah, _fascinating?"_

Bruce pretended his skin wasn't crawling. "Is that all you made me come here to say?"

"Mmm, not quite." He took an inquisitive step forward, and Bruce's heart stammered the closer he got. Paralyzed no matter how much he tried to make his legs leap away, Bruce couldn't do anything when the Joker snatched up his hand and slipped in the knife. (Joker's hand was warmer, firmer, than he thought it might be. Almost pleasant to hold if there wasn't a knife in the way…) His wild, disfigured smirk egged him on, and soon enough his hand, now armed with the knife, was resting tediously on the Joker's jugular.

"Wh-what are you _doing?" _Bruce stammered, eyes wide in total confusion. _He really is, he really _is _insane! Maybe I was wrong—_

"I want you," the Joker whispered happily, "to kill me. 'Kay, Batsy? Here, let me help you!"

Tightening his grip around Bruce's hand, he was about to sink the knife into his own throat when the other man took over control, and ripped away, taking the knife with him.

"What the hell?!" He snarled, panting. All the mad clown did was laugh uproariously, throwing his head back in complete amusement. "Stop! Stop laughing; how is that possibly funny?! You could have _killed _yourself, you—"

"And why," he howled, grinning away, "why would you care, Batsy-poo? I thought you wanted me to be locked away forever and ever and ever, hm? No? Really? Really! Ha! Ha! HA! I think, Batsy, you're a little contradiction, hm?" Wiping away a stray tear, smudging his make up some, the Joker nodded at the knife. "Take a closer look at it. Go ahead."

Dumbstruck, he curiously turned the knife over. Pressing gently on the silver blade, he let out a small gasp when it collapsed into the handle. "It's a _theater prop?"_

"Surprise!"

"You're…you're telling me I saved you from a fake knife…"

"And you _did, _Batsy…" His tone was soft now, musing, mulling over the interesting results of his experiment. "That right there is why you fascinate me, Mr. Dark Knight. You aren't like anybody. Nobody…"

"I'm definitely not like you." Raw desperation almost seeped through. Inside himself he had to be reassured he wasn't.

"…How can you live like that, Batsy?" The Joker blinked, and something close to wistful longing showed. "How do you keep breathing like that? It's impossible. You're impossible. I've never met an actual _human being _before… One who lies that they care about everyone… An actual _human being…!"_

He shifted, unnerved. "Okay, that's enough talking. You're going back to Arkham. Right now." He wasn't going to take any more chances. Just listening to this guy talk was making him wonder too much to feel safe. Intoxicating words, they were. Now safe to stay around, not safe at all. Not safe at _all. _"Do the doctors know you're gone? If you come quietly, I won't tell them, I'll just lock you back up without any trouble and—"

"Nope, nope!" Suddenly alert and with a dangerous half-smirk, he jumped away. "Sorry sweetie, nobody can drag me back there!" He scrambled away, but before Bruce lost sight of him in the vast midnight darkness, he heard him playfully suggest, "But if, perhaps, you, ah, care to play another game with me, I'll see you again soon! Hee, like a date, like a giggly pair of high school lovers…! Ha! Oh, Batsy, you're a riot…! You make me _blush, _you're such a _riot…!"_

Damn it.

"I should go after him…"

But he didn't.

Oh, he should have. Then his heart never would have felt itself wanting to go after him in an entirely different way.

_So, you think I'm a riot? No, you got it wrong that time. The right answer is _you… Bruce found himself thinking as he left, a fresh headache and a few brand new worries in tow with him. A gigantic riot, because he was shaken, right down to his bones.

That psychotic clown was not going to leave.

Bruce Wayne wished he wanted him to.


	2. Oh, No Reason x Liar x

**A/N: **-returns from long vanishing spell- WRITER'S BLOCK NEEDS TO GO DIE. Seriously. –cough- But yes, I have come back with a spiffy new installment, and am still trying to work out the plot. :3 It'll go fast, but I hope it won't seem too rushed, because they already have known each other for a fairly long time.

Okay, enjoy part two! Thanks to everyone who's been reading. :D

-insert clever disclaimer here-

--

Hushed

/~/Two/~/

The Joker knew that what he was doing was dangerous, even for him. Sure, dodging bullets and routinely pissing off mob bosses wasn't labeled the most accident free job, but he was good at that. There was nothing he had to really lose, so it wasn't dangerous at all.

Continuing to flirt with Batsy-poo, however, now _there_ was something to lose.

Yeah.

Why the hell did he do that? Okay, so it was true that he was probably one of the most impulsive people in the whole worthless world, but _that…_well. It wasn't hard for him to randomly decide to start toying and playing and flirting, but being so inclined for one select person was so weird. Don't worry, it wasn't a planned thing or anything; he just wanted to. Wanted to, wanted to, wanted to.

He stared briefly at the knife in his fingers. Without a knife he felt like he was missing a part of him. "What does Batsy always have to carry with him, hm? See, he doesn't need anything, right? That's why he wouldn't _get _you."

Nobody understood the clown. He didn't understand himself. Eventually though, he'd just gotten used to it because he couldn't help it. That was how he w_as. _Not crazy. Only _him. _And by no reason was he ever going to become an obedient, sweet and innocent little doll like the rest of the world.

Playing with dolls was what he liked, not being one.

So.

Seriously now, why the fuck was he leaving Batsy such an open invitation?

Seriously. And seriously as in _seriously, _not like a bad pun. (Although, him being so serious did make him laugh with mirth. Ah, the world and life in general were funny places, no matter how much he hated them both.)

"Batsy, Batsy, look at me… I'm playing with knives again, aren't I? Haha…Mommy always said not to play with knives. Look where I ended up soon after! Oh, am I talking to myself again? Bad…bad habit…"

Sometimes the hench-clowns would stumble in on him and be scared witless. Now that was hilarious. You really can't blame him for playing it up sometimes.

But, trying to distract himself from the whole huge Batman issue at hand was totally not working. He was still very much not distracted.

Those damn uncontrollable impulses… "Come on, why couldn't it be an impulse to go blow up the Eifel Tower or something?" He whined to himself, shoving away his knife. "_Batsy?! _Ah, maybe I am crazy after all…"

All of the time in the interrogation room and on the roof of the Pruit Building too, he _had _been thinking in some corner of his mind or another that he wouldn't mind it if those lips would kiss him. Actually, when he'd said "You complete me," he'd been halfway hoping Gotham's lovely dark knight might take what he's said the wrong way (the right way?) and kiss him, if only to prove it was a phase.

A phase like some hormonal teenager.

Ha ha…ha…

No, the sad part was it wasn't a phase; otherwise the Joker wouldn't have been so eager to show up again the next Saturday.

--

Bruce Wayne wasn't exactly having a much better time figuring out what was going on. He was sitting once again surrounded by pretty women, the prettiest ones Gotham had to offer, and there was no question that each and every one of them were absolutely fawning over him. Making total fools of themselves.

He could have had any one of them he wanted. Any one of them.

But he didn't.

He was _bored _of them.

Bored!

Him, the one who wasted hours going after them and was well known for it, was _bored._

There just wasn't any excitement in it. For some reason he was never satisfied anymore. Hell, he hadn't been in ages. Not since…not since the Joker had been apprehended by the SWAT team on the roof.

He was begging for that to be a simple coincidence, but somehow he was aware it wasn't.

_God, why can't it be a coincidence? _He pleaded inside his pounding head, and quickly found himself answering back reluctantly, _Because you know it's not. You damn well know that it's not._

Biting his lip, he suddenly felt out of place. That was odd, he thought, because he was very talented at charming all of these women. Flash a grin, hold your head high, speak like you're sure of yourself, and you'll have them. He knew exactly what to do around them, but this time he was getting lost inside his own head and not paying attention.

They were noticing, and one tall blonde was starting to complain. "Bruce, did you hear my question…?" She whined, running a thin finger down his arm. "What kind of perfume do _you _think is sexiest, hmmm?" Her voice was a seductive drawl, and some of the others bristled and glared at her.

"What? Per-perfume…?" He tried to snap back into his usual attentive self, but he wasn't into it today.

"What fragrance makes you _lose yourself, _you know…?" Ah, the way she wouldn't let up. if she didn't quit soon a cat fight was almost certainly going to erupt. None of the women Bruce dabbled in ever knew when to stop. Or maybe they just enjoyed making each other jealous.

Fragrance. A fragrance that made him _lose himself…_

_Well, funny you should ask that, darling._

Without much hesitation at all, and answer sprung out from his throat, and it was the most truthful thing he'd told them all day. "Grease paint and gun powder."

Taken by total surprise, the blonde woman pulled away and fell back into the arm of her chair. Wrinkling her perfect nose, she winced, "Why would you ever say _that?!"_

The Wayne heir tried to recover. "Oh, no reason…" he muttered. (Liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire.)

Oh, but was he _flaming…_

--

Saturday couldn't have come soon enough. Bruce needed to feel like he had answers, or he was absolutely terrified he might have some sort of epic breakdown. His headaches refused to go away, and sleep was getting scarcer and scarcer as the week progressed. He was so anxious that he left the costume of the Bat in its case.

And he wasn't quite sure if it was because he actually felt comfortable with where he was going or just because he couldn't even spare two minutes more of delay.

Alley and rooftops, tooftops and alleys… They were so welcoming.

Clowns.

Clowns, fucking _clowns…_

Not so welcoming, but so _penetrating…_

He drive fast, needless to say. And the clown _still _beat him there.

He was calmly waiting, leaned up against a brick wall and twirling a knife in his hand. This one was real, because playing the same trick twice was boring. Too much like a plan that way…and he knew not to trust plans, because they all went wrong anyway. Like, someone could tell you that no, absolutely not, would he hit you over the head with a frying pan. And maybe, stupidly, you might go ahead and believe him because you thought he was your friend. Ten minutes later, BAM! A frying pan comes slamming into your head, and the whole plan goes to hell.

Admittedly, perhaps it wasn't the greatest example, but that was how the Joker saw things.

Speaking of seeing, however, he was sort of surprised when he saw Bruce Wayne tearing onto the scene instead of the Batman.

_Hm, seems like somebody's getting braver? Wonder what came over him. Interesting though… _The Joker glanced at him, feigning uncaring. _You know, in person instead of in the tabloids, Brucie looks even better._

Brucie was in no mood to be ignored. He wanted a few _answers, _damn it, not silence! "You're the one who told me to come here, so talk to me, you son of a bitch." He growled coldly, trying to ignore the way his heart suddenly felt light.

The Joker gave a long sigh and grinned a half smile. "Really, you don't need to call me names… That's no way to make a person like you."

"I never said I wanted you to like me!"

He chuckled. "Defensive, defensive. Would you feel better if I put away my pretty little knife? Would you calm down some? I don't like talking to such hyper people…"

"I'm not defensive!" Bruce sputtered, gritting his teeth and knowing full well that he was being defensive, but he hated the feeling in his chest and he wanted it to go away. It didn't belong there near the Joker.

He knew it did, though. Just by the way it wouldn't leave, he knew it did belong there in some twisted way.

"Mhm. Keep telling yourself that, honey."

Bruce cringed. "I wasn't telling myself anything. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," The Joker disagreed cheerfully, "I've got to say though, your real voice is much more flattering than the creepy one you use as Batsy."

God, he wouldn't shut up about anything _but _what he wanted to hear."Damn it. Tell me what you want me here for, or I'll just leave. I am busy, and I do have better things to do…"

"I'm bored," The Joker said simply, glancing at him. "I'm even being relatively _good _as of late. No explosions, no bank robberies, no tormenting the mob, no scaring civilians… But, ah, it's so _boring. However, _you're fun. So I say to myself, 'Hey, let's play with Batsy!' And then- and then you play right along…you are fun, Batsy. The way you dig yourself into such holes all the time, it's really quite—"

"SHUT UP." _Shut up, shut up, shut up, I can't listen to you talking like _that _any more! _He'd slammed the clown hard into the wall, and pinned him there by the arms. The Wayne heir _knew _what the Joker was saying was true, and he _knew _that there wasn't any other reason.

But oh, he just wanted his heart to quit that goddamned fluttery feeling inside when the clown said those things. Fuck, and it was like his skin was overheating or something, because it was getting hotter than usual inside his business suit.

"Ha ha…ha, oh my!" The Joker licked his lips and goaded him on, enjoying himself even though he must have been uncomfortable under Bruce's tight grip. "If I didn't know better, I'd, ah, say you were going to kiss me or something, judging by this, ah, _very compromising _position, _hmmmm?"_

The way he drew out the last 'hm' pushed Bruce too far, and the heat and the head ache and the _contact _made him lose control.

_"What fragrance makes you lose yourself?"_

_"Grease pain and gun powder."_

Lose yourself.

Grease paint.

_"Hmmmmm?"_

_Lose _yourself.

_…Fuck it._

And he wanted so badly for it all to go away, to disappear, that he did exactly what the Joker had plainly suggested he try.

Their lips met.

And the most horribly part was that his heart _did _come back together, but the moment he pulled away, it fell right back into hungry, fluttery fragments.

Slightly stunned, the clown prince blinked and had an uncertain look on his scarred face. "Um…wow. You didn't have to take me so literally. What was _that _about…?"

Bruce blinked as well and back away, frightened by how his skin was tingling with pleasure. "Wait, you didn't mean for that to…?"

"Not..necessarily… Um, wow. Definitely can't say I'm bored _now."_


End file.
